Mercy
by CottageGhost
Summary: Takes place in those twilight hours following the opening of Letting Go. Ray's holding off the shadows as best he can in Victoria's wake...


**_Disclaimer:_** Alliance owns 'em; I'm just taking them for a spin in the Riv. I promise to bring it back with a full tank.

**_Author's note:_** Every time I watch "Letting Go", I'm floored by how forgiving and understanding Ray is of Benny, considering everything that happened in VS. It's especially striking considering Ray's usual temper. This is my humble attempt at trying to see where Ray is coming from on this one. Hope you enjoy!

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**_Mercy_**

The lighting was low in the small, makeshift chapel nestled in a quiet wing of the hospital, a combination of dimmed lights and flickering candles throwing non-descript shadows on the beige walls. Ray sat alone in the first short row of chairs, head bowed, elbows on his knees, his fingers playing idly with the rosary the chaplain had left him with some time ago. The man had offered a sympathetic ear, a shoulder to cry on, even, but Ray couldn't open up like that just yet; he couldn't make sense of all the thoughts and feelings crashing around in his mind and heart, much less try to make someone else see. Hence his lonely vigil in the semi-darkened room as he waited for more news about Benny. The doctor had already told him that he was out of surgery, so that was one less thing to worry about. Not that it lessened Ray's concern by much, but it was a step in the right direction, considering things could have ended so quickly… _You can't think like that_, he admonished himself with a shake of his head. With a heavy sigh, he returned his eyes to the beads in his hands, hoping the flicker of the lights on their polished surface would catch his attention and set his mind at ease for a bit. It did, for a minute or so, but his thoughts simply would not stray away from their primary target: Benny, lying somewhere between life and death in this drab building, because of the bullet embedded in his back. The bullet Ray had put there.

His fingers tightened unconsciously as he winced at the thought, a thought that was punishing in its persistence, painful in its clarity. At this point, he wanted nothing more than to jump up and run, in the hopes that he could outdistance the sound of the shot and the sight of Benny, toppling slowly off the train to the hard surface of the platform. But there was as much chance of doing that as… as Benny getting his dad to "pack up and leave" his mind, as he had put it. The thought almost made Ray smile; Benny had never talked about it again, and Ray hadn't felt the need to pursue the subject, but it had piqued his curiosity at the time, and he now found that it still did. Especially considering his own encounters with his own elder. He hadn't said anything to Benny about it either – what were the odds, after all, that someone else could not only see a dead (but not necessarily departed) parent, but also have conversations with them? Or in his case, major arguments…

"I told you you'd never see that money again."

Ray blinked once, feeling his fingers tighten reflexively around the beads and his eyes harden as he fought for control. But he refused to look up or take the bait. "Now is not a good time, Pop," he said quietly, the slight rasp in his voice the only indication of the strain he was under.

The ghost of his father simply planted himself in front of him, hands on hips, his usual sour expression accompanied by a glare. "Oh yeah? And when's it gonna be a good time for you, huh? When the family's on the street, begging for food and shelter?"

Ray closed his eyes and ran a hand tiredly over his face. He didn't need this right now… "Look," he began as he leaned back in the chair, resigned to the fact that he would have to have this conversation if he was going to be left well enough alone, "we got the stolen cash as evidence, we have a pretty decent idea of what happened, there are uniforms all over the house to keep looters away; everything's gonna clear up, all right? Nobody's going to live on no street corner. Trust me on this."

Vecchio Sr. snorted disdainfully. "Trust you? Trust you?! You mortgage my house to put down bail for a runner, and I should trust you? Ha!"

Ray's mouth drew into a thin line as he felt his eyes harden still more. "Actually," he replied, his tone low and flinty, "I mortgaged _my_ house for the bail. And Benny's no runner; don't you ever forget it." He brought his eyes back to the beads in his hands, a slight frown creasing his brow. "He's just a little confused right now, that's all."

Vecchio Sr. threw his hands up in exasperation. "'A little confused', he says! The guy should be in a loony bin!"

Ray was surprised to hear himself chuckle. "Actually, he _has_ been to a loony bin, and I went right along with him."

The ghost of his father shook his head disgustedly and started pacing, his eyes fixed on the form of his son. When he couldn't take the silence anymore, he stopped in front of Ray once again, his fists shaking at his sides. "Can't you be a man for once in your godforsaken life and do what needs to be done? This is your family we're talking about here –" he stopped suddenly as Ray shot out of his seat and very nearly shoved his face right through his father's incorporeal one, anger crackling in his glinting green eyes.

"Damn straight we're talking about my family, Pop; damn straight. And Benny's part of that family. So back off."

"He's a stranger!" boomed Vecchio Sr. at Ray's retreating back.

"He's my friend!" Ray boomed back as he spun around and started moving menacingly toward his father's spirit. When the older man actually took a step back, Ray stopped, knowing it was worry and strain that made him act this way, but feeling appalled at himself all the same. Closing his eyes, he took a few calming breaths, then consciously moved away to go lean against the far wall. When he looked at his father again, he was gratified to see that the older man had the good grace to look a little embarrassed. It wasn't much, but Ray would take whatever he could get. "Listen," Ray began, surprising himself for the second time that night by using a tone he could only call conciliatory, "I know that from the outside looking in, this whole thing looks like a disaster. I mean, IA was on our backs, Benny and I got framed, he got arrested for something he didn't do, I mortgaged the house to bail him out, the woman he was running after had my backup gun…" He sighed. "The deck was stacked pretty badly against us, I gotta admit. But I'm not the one that got hurt the most here."

The ghost grunted. "And how'd'you figure that?"

Ray looked up at the ceiling and sighed, suddenly nervous at having to pour out his thoughts to the one man he had never been able to communicate with in life, much less in death. That nervousness quickly evaporated, however, as Ray took in the arms crossed tightly across the chest, the definite sneer beneath the belligerent scowl twisting his father's face. With a resigned sigh, and not a little sadness, he shook his head and sat down in the nearest chair, hoping his father would notice the distance his son insisted on maintaining between them and that the older man would take the hint. When that didn't seem likely, Ray looked over at his father, hurt, anger and something akin to pity moving across his drawn features. "Never mind, Pop," he said finally, his tone weary, "forget I said anything."

Hearing the definite dismissal in the tone, Vecchio Sr. hesitated, not sure how to react to so little fire from his son. Not knowing how else to deal with this kind of mood in his offspring, he went for the barb. "You better make damn sure you don't lose the house over this," he warned.

"Will do, Pop."

Infuriated, the ghost tried to get one final rise out of his son. "I swear to God, you screw this up and I'll come and haunt you night and day!"

A small, tired sigh. Then, quietly, "Whatever floats your boat, Pop. Knock yourself out." When Ray looked over this time, his father was gone.

Bone tired, worried sick and still confused, Ray leaned forward once again, resuming his scrutiny of the beads he hadn't let go of throughout his conversation with the ghost. The encounter had left him with a strange feeling of sadness, something he had felt before after such meetings, but not to that extent. Foolishly, he had hoped that, of all times, this would be the one where the spirit of his father would thaw a little and offer a hint of support. Ray let out a bitter chuckle. "Shows what I know, huh, Pop? I have no idea why I thought you'd listen to anything I have to say."

"Well, I _have_ listened to my fair share of stories, my son. Why don't you give me a chance?"

Ray blinked, startled by the new voice. Sure enough, there was the chaplain, standing half-in, half-out of the room, silently offering his help while giving Ray the option of going back to his (now) lonely wait. Ray moved as if to stand, out of respect, but the priest waived him back down. "I'm sorry, Father, I didn't hear you come in."

The older man smiled benevolently at him, without moving further into the small room. "Quite all right. You have other things on your mind at the moment. I just came to see if you needed anything to make the wait a little easier."

Ray thought for a beat, then slowly shook his head. _What I need, you can't give me_, he thought sadly. "I don't think so," he eventually answered, finding it within himself to smile a little for the chaplain's benefit. "But thanks for asking."

"Not a problem." The priest reached for the door handle as he made to leave. "I'll be nearby. Don't hesitate if you need anything."

Ray almost let him go. Almost. But something – maybe the lingering effect of his conversation with his dad – made him stand up and take a few steps toward the older man to get his attention. "Actually, Father…" He hesitated, his reluctance at discussing the events of the last few hours and days flaring yet again, but waning more and more in the face of the fact that he couldn't keep his feelings to himself for much longer before either his heart gave out or he went insane. "Actually," he started again, "I wouldn't mind some company. If you could spare a few minutes…"

The older man simply nodded, then closed the door behind him as he moved back in, affording them as much privacy as could be had in this very public place. "I can spare all the time you need, my son," he answered reassuringly as he sat down in the chair next to the one Ray had occupied earlier. He waited patiently as the younger man regained his seat and looked down at his hands for a time, obviously trying to marshal his thoughts.

Feeling the other man's eyes on him, Ray looked up and gave him a lopsided smile, letting out a breath of nervous laughter as he did so. "I'm not sure where to start," he explained, suddenly overwhelmed by the idea of dragging out into the open all the unpleasantness that had turned his life and Benny's upside down.

All it took was the compassionate smile and the encouraging nod the chaplain favored him with. Out it all came: Benny's dash after the woman he thought he had recognized; his noticeable absence at the little get together Ray had organized; Ray's hurt at the absence, prompting him to confront Benny; Diefenbaker getting shot; Jolly's murder, which had precipitated the rest of the whole sordid affair…

By the time he was done, Ray was drained, physically and mentally. The sudden numbness he felt, both in body and mind, was almost soothing. The chaplain, meanwhile, had listened silently, never once interrupting the sudden flood of words pouring out of this clearly tormented soul. He stirred finally, readjusting his position so he could face Ray. A few minutes of silence went by as both men sifted through all the complexities of the events, seeking to bring some semblance of order to the chaos Victoria had left in her wake.

Sensing Ray had gotten his bearings back somewhat, the chaplain turned his gaze on the younger man, taking in the slightly rumpled appearance, the drawn features, the green eyes filled with hurt and shame. The man was clearly exhausted and hurting, both from the events and the retelling of them; he was reluctant to put him through the wringer again by delving deeper still into his feelings. Yet, there was such a world of pain and uncertainty in that wounded gaze; he couldn't possibly turn away now. "Few people in this world get to face such an ordeal, fortunately," he began quietly, a little overwhelmed himself at all the layers of shadow and light contained in the tale he had just heard. "That being said, it seems to be your lot, and that of your friend, to face it. And it will not be an easy task." The chaplain stopped to consider Ray for a moment before taking the plunge. "You blame yourself for the shooting."

"Yes." Barely above a whisper.

"But it was an accident." Silence. "Was it not?"

Had that question come a few hours earlier, as Benny was being rushed to the operating room, Ray would have sworn up and down that it was indeed an accident. Now… "You know, Father," he finally replied, his gaze focusing on an invisible point on the floor, "the mind, it does funny things sometimes. Like making you see things that aren't really there, or do something you'd normally never act on." His eyes narrowed as he considered, really considered, his feelings at the time he took up his position, slid off the safety and aimed. Had he wanted to kill Victoria? Hell, yeah. Had he really seen the glint of a gun in her hand as the train started speeding away, or had his brain conveniently tricked his eyes into believing there was one so he would have the excuse he so desperately craved to shoot the woman he had come to hate and save Benny both from her and himself? That's where things got a little blurry. Looking back at the older man, Ray shook his head slightly, unsure where the truth lay.

The chaplain cleared his throat. "Do you think that, perhaps," he asked carefully, "you were unconsciously trying to keep your friend from leaving?" The older man steeled himself instinctively, fully expecting a stormy retort from the younger man, whom he was realizing more and more was a man who felt and cared deeply.

The retort never came. The chaplain could tell from the look in Ray's green eyes that he had already considered that very question, more than once, during the last few hours. The expected anger was instead replaced by a sadness that touched the chaplain with its depth. "I didn't know that was his plan at the time," Ray answered softly, not a trace of resentment at the chaplain's suggestion evident in his tone. One corner of his mouth inched up in an attempted smile. "Honestly, even if I _had_ known, I'm not sure I would have had the heart to stop him." This conclusion, when it had come to him, had rather shocked him. But the more he thought about it, the more he saw the truth in it. That was simply the nature of his relationship with Benny: he would do anything for his friend, anything – including watching him run away with a woman who was more likely to damn him than save him. It might kill Ray, but he'd do it; all because that's what made Benny happy. And heaven knew Benny deserved some happiness in this life…

"Even though his leaving would have left you with considerable problems to contend with?"

Ray frowned slightly, looking for all the world as if the words didn't make sense to him. He shook his head at the chaplain. "Benny wouldn't leave me in the lurch like that."

"Well…"

"No." Ray faced the chaplain fully, his green gaze as clear and certain as the chaplain had seen it thus far. "We _are_ talking about the man who, despite being under that woman's spell, rushed to my house and turned it upside down in order to find a piece of evidence that would keep me from getting accused of a crime I had nothing to do with." Welsh had come to tell him about the house an hour or so after Benny had gone into surgery. IA had been the first on the scene, hours earlier, realizing at the sight that Benny had beaten them to the punch. To say they weren't happy with that turn of events was an understatement, according to Welsh, who hadn't been above doing a little crowing at their discomfiture. No one accused his boys unjustly without paying for it. No one. "No," Ray repeated more softly, "something's gonna turn up to prove my point – a note, a letter – something. I just know it."

The chaplain was silent for a beat, digesting what he had just heard and seen. He had seen blind faith under many guises in this life, some good, some bad. He wasn't quite sure where this particular manifestation of it fell. "You have a great deal of trust in your friend, don't you."

Ray simply nodded as a small but definite smile stretched his lips. "Must be Benny rubbing off on me," he said softly, fondness coloring his tone. Seeing the look on the chaplain's face, Ray let out a small breath as he tried to figure out how he could possibly explain Benny to someone who didn't know him. The man was an experience unto himself. "See, Benny, he… He sees good in people. Always. And if he doesn't see it right off the bat, he'll dig for it until he finds it." The smile faded. "Now, Victoria… She had a… a darkness… in her. I saw it quickly enough. I think Benny did, too. In fact, I think he knew it was there all along. But being the good, hopeful soul that he is, he felt it his duty to find that one speck of goodness in her and to fan it into life."

A touch of understanding lighted the chaplain's face. "I see. And you think that's why he was leaving with her."

Ray nodded slightly, his eyes straying to his hands again. "Yeah – Benny, savior supreme." What he didn't say was that he had also glimpsed a darkness in Benny. It was nothing like Victoria's – it had a different feel altogether – but it was there all the same. And its nature troubled Ray. It made him suspect that his friend had made that final mad dash down the platform for an entirely different reason, a reason even Victoria might not have guessed. And it scared Ray witless. He would have to be there in a big way for Benny when the dust settled in the coming weeks. That bullet in his back, Ray strongly suspected, would be the least of his problems.

"A man of dogged determination, your friend," the chaplain said after a moment, a bemused smile on his lips.

"Hmm? Oh," Ray replied with a small laugh as the words registered. "Now that, Father, is an understatement and a half." He sobered, reflecting that, in this particular instance, it hadn't been Benny's usual dogged persistence that had fuelled his actions. He suddenly thought of Angie and of all that had gone wrong even though everything had started so right. Images of Suzanne Chapin also flashed in his mind: her face as she had looked down at him, her hair glowing as if surrounded by a halo; the look in her eyes just before that first kiss; her expression as she had revealed her true identity after Ray had foolishly told her to run away. But, most of all, he remembered the look in Benny's eyes after telling him, utterly crushed, that he had been willing to bet his soul on her. He had caught the look, fleetingly, but had been unable to make anything out of it at the time. Now he knew; Benny had understood. Oh, how he had understood… "Love… It makes you do strange things sometimes," Ray mused quietly, his voice laced with a knowledge the chaplain could only guess at.

The chaplain looked at the younger man appraisingly. There was a good deal more meaning in the way that simple truth had been uttered than he could grasp. What _was_ plain to see, though, was a great capacity to love and forgive, a quality he suspected few people knew this young man possessed. It had to be acknowledged somehow… "True," he assented thoughtfully. "But it can also make one learn wondrous things. Like the capacity for mercy, for instance."

Ray looked at the chaplain, nonplussed. "Come again?"

The chaplain smiled slightly, happy to see he had gotten Ray's attention. If he could only make him see, maybe he could help him – and his friend – heal. He closed his eyes as he searched his memory. "What's that quote again? Ah yes – 'Teach me to feel another's woe/To hide the fault I see/That mercy I to others show/That mercy show to me'." He raised an eyebrow at Ray. "Alexander Pope. Are you familiar with him?"

Ray shook his head with a hint of a smile. "No. But that sounds like something that would come out of Benny's mouth."

The chaplain cocked his head. "Your friend's well-read?"

"Librarians' grandson."

"Ah." Growing serious again, the chaplain placed a comforting hand on Ray's forearm as he looked straight at him, willing his message to get across. "I see that capacity in you, my son. It burns brightly within you still, despite all that's happened. Now, I don't know your friend – other than what you've told me of him – but I strongly suspect he possesses that capacity as well." The hand on Ray's forearm squeezed reassuringly. "He'll forgive you, my son. Trust him on this."

Ray swallowed. _That's what I'm afraid of,_ he thought with sudden trepidation. Hurt, anger, disappointment even, he could deal with; he'd grappled with those enough times to have a handle on them. Once they were out, forgiveness and healing might be an option. But he knew how Benny tended to keep things bottled up; honest as he was, he still wasn't above doing a little emotional camouflaging, either to protect himself or others. Heaven knew, Ray wanted Benny's forgiveness; he literally ached for it. But he wanted it to be the real thing – not just a token absolution given to make him feel better while covering a resentment that would eventually thrust them apart. Ray would just as soon prefer Benny slam the door in his face than live through that. Open rejection he could live with; it would hurt like hell, but he could do it. The slow death of their friendship – no way. He was about to voice those very thoughts when a soft knock was heard at the door, which opened shortly thereafter to reveal one of the duty nurses. "Are you Detective Vecchio?" she asked quietly in the hushed atmosphere.

Ray stood up. "Yes."

"Good. I just wanted to let you know your friend was just moved to a room in ICU." Seeing the stricken look on Ray's face, she hastened to add, "It's okay, it's just normal procedure in a case like this. He's weak but stable at the moment; we just want to make sure he remains stable before we move him to a regular room." Ray's relief was palpable. It was hard to see in the low lighting of the room, but she thought she could see him trembling. He looked so miserable; her heart went out to him. "Would you like to see him?" she asked gently, watching patiently as Ray, suddenly unsure, looked back at the chaplain. When the older man nodded encouragingly, Ray turned back to the nurse and nodded. "Come with me then; I'll take you."

Nodding his thanks at the chaplain, Ray started following, then stopped as he realized he was still clutching the rosary in his hand. "Oh. Uhm, here –" He stretched his hand out to give it back to the chaplain. The older man simply took the hand and folded it securely over the beads. "Keep it. You put some good thoughts and good energy in there," he said meaningfully, guessing at the doubts assailing Ray. "All I ask is that you share them with someone who needs it. Can you do that for me?"

Ray looked at the older man for a beat, then nodded with a tremulous smile. "I'll try, Father," his voice barely more than a harsh whisper. "Thank you."

The chaplain nodded. "God be with you, my son."

A few moments later, he stood alone in the small room.

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The only light in the room came from a small lamp near the head of the bed, bathing Benny's face in a slightly washed out light that did nothing for him; if anything, it made him look worse than he actually was. Or so the nursing staff told Ray; he had no way to judge for himself. All he had to go on was their word.

He hardly remembered stepping into the room. What he did remember, however, was the fear that had gripped him the moment he had stepped through the door leading inside the unit. Had someone asked him, he would have been utterly unable to give it a name. Regardless, that fear still held him glued to the spot he stood in, torn between wanting to rush to Benny's side, take him into his arms and, by sheer force of will, make everything right again, and running as far away from here as he could, either until his legs gave out or his guilt consumed him whole. _I can't do this_, came the thought, unbidden, as his back pressed instinctively into the door, his body ready to flee this abode of pain, pain he was responsible for. But one look at his friend, hurt, helpless and more alone than he had ever been made him tamp down on the panic he felt and shove it into a far corner of his mind. This wasn't about him; Benny was the one that mattered right now.

Slowly, he moved closer to the bed, careful not to jostle any of the equipment beeping softly nearby. If it wasn't for the slightly unnatural paleness of his skin and the dark circles under his eyes, Ray could have sworn he was simply resting. But he knew better…

Suddenly overwhelmed, Ray let out a sob, his eyes filling with tears as he contemplated his wounded friend and what could well be the end of a companionship such as he had never known. Gently, he reached out to brush a lock of hair off his friend's forehead. "Oh, Benny," he whispered with a long, shuddering sigh, "how are we ever going to get out of that one?" For a moment, he felt the panic rising again, stronger than before. Then he remembered the chaplain's words: _"Trust him on this"_. Forcing the feelings back once more, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, willing his jumbled feelings into some semblance of order and his heart to stop racing so wildly. It took a little while, but eventually, his heart started slowing down and he was able to think more clearly. Carefully, he turned Benny's hand palm up and gently pressed the rosary in his palm before enfolding the hand within both of his. Bracing himself with a breath, Ray looked directly at his friend, willing him to hear with all his heart. "Hey, Benny. It's me, Ray." A nervous sigh. "I, uh… I don't know if you can hear me or not –" He breathed a small laugh. "I'm almost hoping you can't, in a way." He cleared his throat, his eyes toward the ceiling, seeking strength Lord knew from where. "Damn, this is hard…" Letting out a heavy sigh, he forced himself to focus once more on his friend's peaceful features. "Listen, I know this is woefully inadequate, but… I'm sorry. I am so very sorry for everything that happened. I should have been there for you – I know, I know, I was, kinda, but not as much as I should have been. If I had been… You probably wouldn't be here." A corner of his mouth inched up involuntarily. "Then again, you might no longer be speaking to me, either." He frowned at the twinge he felt in his gut at the thought. "I won't lie to you; that would be tough to take. I mean, you know how getting your goat's become one of my main missions in life." The small smile that had tugged at his lips vanished as he felt the sting of fresh tears gathering in his eyes. He sniffled. "Seriously, though. I realize this is one doozy of a storm we got ourselves into, but we've got to see our way clear of it, okay? And I do mean 'we' – that's you and me, together. You hear? I don't want you going off on some self-sacrificing tangent, taking the blame for the whole shebang. I know you, Benny; you'll want to take responsibility for the whole thing. Well, you can forget about that right now – I won't let ya. Got that? We're shouldering this one together. You know, a burden shared and all that…" A small knock against the window made him look up. The duty nurse who had taken him here was letting him know that time was up. He gave a small, reluctant nod. "Look, Benny, I gotta go. Nurse says you need your beauty sleep." He smiled again. "From the looks of you, I can see why." Sobering, he looked down briefly at their joined hands, wishing with all his might that he could give Benny some of his strength. He breathed in deeply, then exhaled slowly as he raised his eyes to his friend's face once more. "I have only one favor to ask of you right now, Benny: I want you to live. All right? Can you do that for me? That's all I'm asking. We can pick things up from there when you're better. Deal? Cool." Gently, Ray closed Benny's lukewarm fingers around the rosary, then, after a final squeeze, made his way tiredly to the door…

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Ray shivered as he stepped outside, not sure the cold feeling was entirely due to the weather. It had stopped snowing, at least. The sky had cleared, and there seemed to be the promise of sunshine in the east. He stretched painfully, then got the snowbrush out of the car. It was small comfort, he had to admit as he started clearing the pristine white cover off the green metal. But given the hell he had just been through and the rocky road ahead, he would take every little bit he could get.

THE END


End file.
